


seven songs

by flimsy



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-24
Updated: 2012-09-24
Packaged: 2017-11-14 23:58:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/520868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flimsy/pseuds/flimsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven loosely connected ficlets set to seven songs. </p><p> </p><p>  <i>He likes the freckles just under Louis’ eyes and he likes Louis’ scruff; the way it feels against his own when they kiss and the way this makes Louis laugh into Liam’s mouth until their teeth click and they go from snogging to tickling and back again, until they’re both a giggling, silly mess on the bed or the floor or the sofa on the bus. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	seven songs

**Author's Note:**

> i. samson / regina spektor
> 
> ii. nineteen / tegan and sara
> 
> iii. cosy in the rocket / psapp
> 
> iv. yellow / boyce avenue (coldplay)
> 
> v. such great heights / iron and wine (postal service)
> 
> vi. blonde on blonde / nada surf
> 
> vii. and the boys / angus and julia stone
> 
>  
> 
> [here](http://profanique.tumblr.com/post/32221062124/seven-songs-seven-loosely-connected-liam-louis)

i.

Louis remembers meeting Liam for the first time; Liam's smile that held a maturity beyond his age and something about him that simultaneously made Louis want to speak up for him and tell the others lads to quit teasing him, and to tease Liam himself. Now curled up on the tiny sofa on their tour bus with Liam speaking to his mum on the phone, Louis thinks that he can see beyond the smile currently on Liam's face.

"Hey," he says when Liam finally hangs up, drops his head against the backrest of the sofa and pulls his knees further up against his chest. Liam isn't seventeen anymore, but sometimes he will look younger than he used to when he allows himself to let go around Louis.

"Hey," Liam croaks back. He doesn't move and closes his eyes. Louis can see his throat working with something that he may want to say but can't quite.

He watches Liam’s face for a moment, then drops his book on the floor and climbs closer, pressing his fingers into Liam's side, just under his armpit, to tickle him. Liam squeaks and jerks away, grabbing Louis' wrists, laughing. "You little shit-" he starts, pressing his thumbs down. Louis makes a hissing noise, half-amused, and attempts to wrestle out of Liam's grip, struggling until they're tumbling down onto the floor. He curses under his breath and tries to wedge his fingers between Liam and his arm again, but Liam catches his hands, rolls them over and pins Louis down, breathing hard and still laughing.

"Respect your elders and accept the tickling," Louis says and tries to kick his legs, but finds them inconveniently trapped under Liam's weight.

"Never," Liam grins back, but lets go of Louis' wrists anyway. He drops his head against Louis' chest and Louis wraps his arms around his shoulders, squeezing, Liam's breath warm against his neck for a moment until Liam pulls away and climbs back onto the sofa awkwardly.

"You broke my back," Louis says and makes a pained noise, squeezing his eyes shut. "You broke an old man’s back. I require intensive care."

Liam laughs and Louis feels Liam’s foot poke into his side and curls up, batting at it.

"Ice cream," he moans, "and hot chocolate sauce and a film are the only cure. You owe me that much."

"Alright," Liam says. "Don't die while I'm gone."

"I shall try!" Louis calls after him, grinning, and opens his eyes to watch Liam duck out into the back of the bus.

 

ii.

Liam loves that rebellious wisp of hair just on top of Louis' head that springs free with no consideration whatsoever of the amounts of hairspray on Louis' head. It makes Liam smile, and on this particular day in the humid heat, it makes him reach out to touch and then lean in to nuzzle Louis' neck to see if his skin really is as soft as it looks. He still smells like the sun, a deep and earthy scent that rolls through Liam's head like Louis' laugh would. He's aware that he's drunk and that his hand is on Louis' thigh, squeezing a little too tightly, but feels powerless against the pull.

"Are you alright, Li?" Louis says and wraps his arm around Liam's shoulder. "Do you feel ill?"

Liam chuckles a little and shakes his head, pressing closer until his nose nudges against the soft spot just behind Louis' ear. He feels Louis shiver and it sends a delicate rush of arousal down his spine. He frames Louis' knee between his fingers, rubbing, and leans up to press a kiss against his neck, exhaling shakily. The need to move his mouth higher and lick into Louis', to push him down into the dry grass and feel the shift of muscles under his hands, surges up so quickly it almost steals his breath; he shifts up a little and darts his eyes down to where Louis is touching the pink tip of his tongue to his bottom lip.

"Liam," Louis says with a hitch in his voice. He moves his thigh, but doesn't pull away, and Liam feels his breath speed up a little. His hand finds Liam's neck and Liam leans down and darts his tongue out to lick at Louis' lip and then into his mouth until they're really kissing, finally, and if Liam weren't sitting down, he's certain his knees would give in.

 

iii.

Louis can't remember Liam being this cross with him ever; he remembers fighting over little things and then laughing it off, and maybe he's snapped at Liam once or twice while in a bad mood, but this is different. Liam hasn't spoken to him all day, not even when Louis draped himself all over him and tickled him and then offered to make hot chocolate for him and then subsequently offered to buy beer for him. Liam just grabbed his waist and pushed him off and wandered out of Zayn's room, shoulders hunched.

He finds Liam later that night after he's had a few beers already and Harry has found a pretty blonde downstairs whose neck apparently tastes like rainbow cotton candy because Harry’s mouth seems magically attached to it. 

Liam’s in their room with his headphones on, watching a movie, and barely looks up when Louis lets himself in. Louis considers him for a moment, then dives onto Liam’s bed and tugs off his headphones, snuggling close, but Liam just makes an unhappy noise and rolls over to push him off. 

“Leave me alone, Tommo,” he grunts and gets up, leaving Louis lying on his back, staring up. 

“Why’re you so upset with me?” Louis asks and shakes his head. 

Liam glares at him for a few more moments, then looks away, mouth tight. “Because. Because you told Harry that you kissed me because you were drunk.”

Louis opens and closes his mouth and then feels himself go a little red in the face. “Well. We were drunk,” he argues and sits up.

“Right,” Liam says and looks like he’s going to cry. “I would’ve kissed you either way that night,” he says quietly. “Pissed or not.”

“Oh.” Louis holds his breath, finally understanding, and then reaches out and tugs at Liam’s sleeve, hand shaking just a little bit. “Me too.”

 

iv.

Louis is always warm; he has warm hands and a warm smile and when Liam kisses him he is warm, too, and Liam likes to press against him and soak up the heat. He likes to bury his nose against the back of Louis’ head where his hair is always soft and without product, and he likes the way Louis’ tummy feels under his hands when Louis lets him touch it. 

He likes the freckles just under Louis’ eyes and he likes Louis’ scruff; the way it feels against his own when they kiss and the way this makes Louis laugh into Liam’s mouth until their teeth click and they go from snogging to tickling and back again, until they’re both a giggling, silly mess on the bed or the floor or the sofa on the bus. 

Most of all things, however, he likes waking up with Louis curled tightly around him, his breath soft and warm against Liam’s chest. Liam will stay perfectly still, watching the flutter of his lashes against his cheeks, softly stroking his shoulder. 

 

v.

“Oh god, shit-” Louis moans and squeezes his eyes shut, then makes himself breathe again. His spine is on fire, sending tingles all the way down to his toes, which are resting against Liam’s shoulders. He feels vulnerable and open in the very best way, like he’s just waiting to unfold. 

“Are you alright?” Liam asks and Louis makes another sound because this is ridiculous; he doesn’t even want to look at Liam because Liam should see that he’s _alright_ , Liam should feel that Louis is _more_ than alright. “Lou?”

“Fuck,” Louis breathes out. “Just- keep going.” He arches up against Liam’s fingers and pushes his hand over his face, clamping over his mouth for a moment, when Liam thrusts in a little deeper, a little harder, and then stops again. He kisses Louis’ knee and Louis wants to slap him. “It’s good,” he moans. “It’s good, don’t bloody stop-”

“Yeah?” Liam sounds smug now and Louis pries his eyes open to glare at him, finding him smirking. He sits up a bit, pushing at the back of Louis’ thighs, and then starts moving his fingers again. “Can I do another?” he asks but doesn’t wait, just eases in a third one that stretches Louis open too fast for a moment until he remembers to breathe and lets out a pathetic little whimper that, tangibly, makes Liam’s cock twitch against his thigh. 

“I think I like this,” he manages and then moves his hips, riding up against Liam’s fingers. It’s almost painful, but not quite, and when Liam thrusts in a bit deeper Louis almost comes, seeing stars. 

“I think you like this a whole lot,” Liam says; he bites down on Louis’ knee and then does it again, harder, deeper, curling his fingers just like that until Louis thinks his voice is going to either give out or have people come running to his aid. 

 

vi.

Liam rings Louis the night he sees the pictures and then, waiting for Louis to pick up, already feels bad for taking any of it seriously at all. He should trust Louis and he should not be making calls like that in the middle of the night just because he’s too far away to ask Louis in person, and he should not have been staring at that stupid picture for the past twenty minutes, trying desperately to turn it 3D in his head to get another angle that will tell him what he wants to know. 

“‘llo?” Louis’ sleepy voice says after the third ring. Liam closes his eyes and pictures Louis’ hair, standing up funnily, and he pictures the way Louis’ eyes get all small and squinty when he’s not quite awake and refuses to get up. It makes his chest ache.

“Hey,” he says and picks something off his jeans, trying to distract himself. “I just. Wanted to hear your voice,” he finally says and it’s mostly true, but also untrue and that makes him feel even worse. 

“Here’s my voice,” Louis says and Liam hears the rustle of sheets and he hides his face against his knees for a moment, heart thrumming in his chest. 

“I saw a picture today,” he blurts out before he can stop himself. “Of you and that model.”

There’s silence on the line for a long time and Liam tries to discern Louis’ breathing from the background noises, tries to read his mood from the faint intakes of breath now and then. He stays quiet, listening, until Louis finally says, “I wondered when you’d be asking about that.” He sounds less sleepy and a little more awake; Liam wants to punch himself in the face for calling Louis when it’s three bloody a.m. where Louis is. 

“Listen,” Liam says. “I just- I don’t think. I just needed.” He stops again, unsure of how he can say what he wants to say. 

“What,” Louis snaps. Liam sighs and then holds his breath; Louis sounds like he has all his shields up, knives out, ready to strike when he has to. 

“I miss you,” Liam says carefully. “I miss you and I’m jealous when suddenly there’s a picture that makes it look like you’re kissing some really pretty girl with really nice breasts and really nice legs.”

“You idiot,” Louis barks out and Liam bites his lip and stays quiet. There’s nothing for a few moments until Louis sighs and finally says, “You have really nice legs, too. Nicer. A lot nicer.”

 

vii.

Louis is all tanned and his hair is light and bleached from the sun when Liam picks him up at the airport. They don’t hug until they’re out of sight of the paparazzi, but when they do Louis melts against him like he’s made of butter, burying against and holding on so tightly Liam is almost scared that Louis is going to rip right through his clothes. 

“Hey,” he says gently and Louis pushes away, looks up, cheeks a little red, and grabs the lightest bag from the heap on the trolley and marches off. Liam watches him walk away, smiling, then grabs the trolley and follows after him until they reach the car where he helps Louis load the bags into the trunk and then gets into the passenger side because he knows Louis wants to drive. 

They pull out of the car park and out onto the road where Louis steps on it until Liam feels safer holding onto the dashboard. 

“I was thinking on the plane,” Louis says and Liam looks at him, throat a bit tight. 

“Yes?” he asks and sinks further into his seat. 

“Mhm,” Louis says. “Having two flats when we’re barely in London anyway, it seems like such a waste.” He goes quiet again, looking at the road. 

Liam tilts his head and doesn’t get it for ten, fifteen seconds. When he does, he breaks into a grin, unable to hold back, and laughs. “You’re right. Utter waste.”

“Even if we’re stinking rich,” Louis elaborates. “We should be thinking economically.” He glances at Liam with a wide smile and Liam reaches out and gently squeezes his thigh, suddenly too excited to speak.


End file.
